Too Damn Comfortable
by The Dark Knight's Revenge
Summary: Just a little one-shot of Dean praying for some comfort from Castiel post molotov cocktail showdown with Lucifer.


It was well after 4 a.m. but Dean Winchester wasn't about to sleep. There was no way in _hell_ he would be sleeping.

The large bottle of Jim Beam sat between his legs, he'd been drinking it down steadily since he'd pulled into a motel in the middle of nowhere, halfway between Lawrence, Kansas and Western Michigan. He had a spare bottle in the bag next to the bed, which he'd likely put to use getting through the night.

Try as he might, flashes of the day kept tugging at every piece of his mind. Coupled with the gut-deep grief over losing Sam to Lucifer, it had taken all his self control not to binge his entire stash of alcohol on the first leg of the drive.

He was going to get in to Battle Creek sometime the next day, and he was going to give Lisa his best apology... Whatever that was going to be. He was going to man up and do what he'd promised Sam. The quiet life.

That didn't mean it felt good going down.

Another drink, minutes slowly sliding by.

He and Bobby had barely exchanged more than a few words before they'd gotten the hell out of dodge in their respective vehicles. Castiel had fucked off to heaven on his power trip, or whatever, and left them in the dust.

At least the angel had his mojo back.

He let another hard gulp of whiskey go down before he acknowledged the new ache starting up in his chest. Dammit, he wasn't going to be upset that Cas had left him after what they'd been through... It was just that after Sam, Castiel became the next highest ranking person on the totem pole of Dean's trust.

Cas was one tough little fucker, that was for sure. No one just lobbed a molotov at their exalted big brother and then survived getting blown to bits by it. Well, the goddamned angel _did_ survive it, but one didn't just mentally jump right up from that.

Or maybe you did, if you were Cas. He didn't know.

"Tough motherfucker." He mused again, staring at the bottle that was starting to head towards empty.

"Oh, what the hell." Dean growled after a moment. A hare-brained thought was niggling in the back of his mind. It probably wouldn't even work.

"And now I lay me down to sleep..." He started, the familiar childhood prayer suddenly getting stuck in his throat. He took another swig to try and clear it, but his vision blurred and the lump in his throat stuck fast.

"Sammy..." Damn it, the blurred vision wasn't from the Jimmy. He was crying.

And now I lay me down to sleep..." He tried again. "And I pray to Castiel..."

Nothing happened.

"I pray to Castiel... I-I need somebody here. I'm alone. Please." Dean covered his eyes with a tired hand and let the salty tears seep in.

A warm weight fell around his shoulders. Dean started and looked around with bleary eyes. A familiar tan coat slid from around his shoulders and he dove to return it to its place around his shoulders. The room was empty aside from just the gift.

"Thanks, buddy." Dean said. "I mean, I wish you'd appeared with it, but I'll take what I can get. Guess you're busy." He scooted up the bed to the headboard and let the trenchcoat enfold him, covering his eyes with the lapel. Familiar Cass smell mixed with the smell of bourbon and relief flooded him.

How long had it been since he'd eaten? Since he'd slept? Since he hadn't felt stressed out of his wits?

He killed the rest of the Jim Beam in two huge gulps, scalding his mouth and throat. At some point he started to shake, clutching the bottle as tightly as he could to try and allay it. He let his eyes flutter shut and pressed his face harder into the lapel of Cass' trenchcoat. The room spun.

"You're going to poison yourself." A familiar voice growled in his ear. Dean jumped.

Sitting on the bed next to him, three familiar angels swam into view. The one closest to him looked concerned and sweaty. Cass put a hand on his head and the room began to stop spinning. The three angels converged into one as the alcohol's effects were reversed. That left him sober and still crying.

"What are you doing?" Cass asked, eyebrows knitting together.

Dean floundered. All the possible answers seemed _really_ dumb now that he wasn't jazzed up on Jimmy.

Cass took his silence with pursed lips, then pulled both legs on the beg, sitting close to Dean. He snapped his fingers and two new bottles of Beam appeared in his hand. He handed one to Dean.

"I see." Was all the angel said before starting in on the liquor. Dean slowly opened his bottle and took a small sip. He noticed that the tremors in his hands hadn't left.

"Today was a... clusterfuck, if you will pardon my French." Cass said.

"Pardoned. And agreed." Dean replied.

They sat and sipped their respective bottles in silence as the minutes ticked by and the first rays of sunshine started to peek in the window.

"Dean. Are you okay?" Castiel asked.

"Do I look okay?" Dean replied, letting out a bark of laughter. Castiel looked unamused.

"If you have something more important to be doing, by all means..." Dean said.

"I do, actually, achieve important things when I'm not with you." Cass replied.

"I see. Well, you're welcome to leave." Dean was beginning to feel that tired, pissy feeling. He probably should be sleeping.

"I'm concerned for your well-being." Cass said quietly. He set his empty bottle on the bedside table. Dean looked at his own bottle incredulously. How did the angel put bourbon down so fast?

"You should sleep. I can help you if you want." Cass said, shifting off the bed.

"Sure, I mean, there's room for two..." Dean said, putting his Jim Beam aside and startling to shrug off his leather jacket and Cas' coat. He turned to see Cas looking at him oddly.

"What."

"I don't think we meant the same kind of help."

Dean's face heated. _Awkward._

"I'm sorry, Cass. I should have known you meant the usual angel knockout routine."

"I can stay if you wish me to..." Cas said, looking uncomfortable.

"It's fine, go back to heaven." Dean said. _Where you belong._

"Dean..." Cas suddenly looked very tired. Dean felt a stab of guilt. He was being unfair. These were chick emotions.

"Lay down, Cass. Your vessel is tired."

Castiel debated for a fraction of a second before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt to a comfortable place. He crawled, catlike, onto the bed and stretched out next to Dean.

Dean pulled his worn leather jacket off and tossed it aside, then picked up Cass' coat and began spreading it out over the angel.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asked.

"Just making sure you don't forget your jacket when you teleport out of here. And you might get cold. Lay down for a few minutes, when I pass out you can poof back to heaven and keep doing whatever you were doing before I showed up."

"Mmm..." Cass replied, his vessel halfway asleep already.

"Just don't leave before I fall asleep okay? And don't tell anyone."

"You can't sleep without someone there?" Cass' thick voice came as he turned out the light. It didn't really matter, the sun was almost all the way up.

"I'm freaked as fuck, Cass. I saw some shit today." Dean said, dragging a hand across his face. He looked at the lit curtains and decided to get up to close them. But Cass reached out and grabbed his arm, dragging him back.

"I don't have all night." Cass said, forcing Dean's head down on his chest.

"Cass?" Dean squeaked. But the angel didn't reply, soft snores emanating from his vessel. The angel's iron grip held his dead tightly. He had little choice but to arrange himself as neatly as possible with the angel's death grip on his hair and close his eyes.

He didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep, and he suspected Cass was faking sleep to get him to lay down, but whatever the case he was out within seconds.

Morning came fully through the curtains several hours later; Castiel's grip had relaxed and Dean lay splayed out across the angel's chest, one arm thrown loosely around his waist. The angel had fully intended to disappear once Dean was asleep, then he just got too damn comfortable.


End file.
